


Don’t They Know It’s The End of the World?

by NihilNoviSubSole



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Pre-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NihilNoviSubSole/pseuds/NihilNoviSubSole
Summary: Rural physician Arcade Gannon is having a difficult day at work. When a blinding flash lights up the hospital shortly before it is plunged into darkness, he denies the worst has happened...until he can’t.Rated M for gore.
Relationships: Courier & Arcade Gannon, Female Courier & Arcade Gannon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

_ “Paging Dr. Gannon on line one. Paging Dr. Gannon on line one.” _

Dr. Arcade Gannon wiped the sweat from his brow as he jogged out of his patient’s room to the nearest hallway phone. The air conditioning in the rural hospital was subpar at best, but the unforgiving desert heat seeped its way in through every weakness in its walls, causing even its veteran medical staff members to lose their breath with the stress of the day. 

He picked up the phone and dialed in. “Dr. Gannon speaking,” he said, upon hearing the line click to life.

“You’ve got a patient in room 2,” the receptionist’s cheery voice crackled through the line, “25-year-old female. Just got here a few minutes ago.”

Arcade glanced at his watch, which showed nearly noon. “I don’t know, Annie. Can anyone else take her? I was thinking of calling it lunchtime.”

“Oh, I’m  _ so _ sorry, Dr. Gannon, but Richards and McCullough are  _ both _ out sick today, could you believe it?” Annie sighed, “It’s just you today.”

“Just  _ me? _ ” Arcade cried, “Fuck! Excuse my language. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Well, we didn’t get busy until about fifteen minutes ago!” the receptionist chuckled, “I guess that’s one benefit of being so far off the beaten path.”

“Do me a favor,” Arcade sighed as he rubbed his temples, “Can you--is Nora there? To cover the desk?” When Annie made a confirmatory sound, he continued, “Okay, great. Please--take my car and bring me back a large, black coffee, okay? Damn vending machine is broken. And uh...I don’t know. Some kind of fruit. I don’t care. Something portable. I’ll give you a few bucks for lunch, yourself.”

“That’s very kind of you, Dr. Gannon,” Annie said brightly, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Arcade murmured as he hung up the phone. He hated using the front-desk girls to run errands for him, as most of the time, he was content to take care of things himself. On a day like today, though, where a few moments’ peace was a pipe dream, he realized he had no choice. 

Just before he entered exam room two, Annie jogged up to him with her palm outstretched for his keys. If he’d been attracted to women at all, he realized, he probably would have considered her a knockout--all the other doctors seemed to. She was a young, studious-looking brunette in bright scarlet lipstick, and her hair was piled upon her head in an impeccable french twist. A combination of Arcade’s homosexuality and his age, however, made him feel like he was handing allowance to a kid as he counted out a few singles and handed them to her.

“Pack of Salems, too, if you don’t mind,” he said quietly. “Shouldn’t be more than a quarter at the gas station on Main, if that’s where you’re headed.”

“Whatever you’d like, Dr. Gannon,” said Annie sweetly as she took the car keys and the cash. “Be back in a few!”

Arcade waved her away absentmindedly as he headed into the exam room to see his newest patient.

As Annie had described, she was a young woman in her mid-twenties. Her curly hair was a shocking shade of red, dragged unwillingly into a ponytail behind her head rather than neatly piled at her crown. Her glasses were fashionable for the era--a bold, black cat-eye frame--but she wore no makeup. Arcade took a deep breath before shifting into his bedside manner and taking a look at her chart on the end of her bed.

“Good afternoon, Miss Wood,” he said as he flipped through the pages. “I’m Dr. Gannon. I understand a--” he squinted at some smudged text, “--oh, no! A dog bite? Is that why you’re here?”

Miss Wood nodded. “I’m a mail carrier,” she laughed, apparently maintaining good spirits. “Guess the old jokes about dogs hating us are true.”

“Well, not too big of a deal, I’m sure, as long as we can keep it clean and bandaged. No chance it was rabid, I hope?”

Miss Wood shook her head. “Nah. Dumb dog just dug through the fence and got too excited. Not a wild one or anything like that.”

“Good to hear,” he nodded, and squinted at the chart again for her first name. He liked to be personable to younger patients, and while a woman in her sixties might have insisted upon being called ‘Miss’ or ‘Mrs.’, women in their twenties tended to warm up more if referred to on a first-name basis.

“Okay, Aurora--”

“ _ No, _ ” his patient immediately groaned. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Arcade immediately apologized for his presumptiveness, “Miss Wood it is.”

“ _ No _ , not that either,” she insisted, “Sorry. Call me Rory, please.”

“Ah,” Arcade nodded, “Got it! Sorry, Rory.”

“S’alright. My full name just never really  _ fit _ me, is all. It sounds weird. I dunno.” She shrugged. “I guess my parents hated me or something.”

Arcade laughed. “You’re not gonna  _ believe _ my first name, then,” he said over his shoulder as he readied some medical supplies and donned a clean pair of gloves.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Rory raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t see it on your jacket.”

“For good reason,” Arcade rolled his eyes. “It’s  _ Arcade _ .”

“Wow,” Rory laughed, “ _ Your _ parents must have  _ hated _ you.”

“I’ve wondered that, myself,” Arcade shook his head with a grin as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, let me take a look at that leg.”

Rory gestured to the gory mess of her shin and hissed as Arcade poured some harsh, topical antiseptic over it, gingerly rubbing it into the wound with his gloved fingers. 

“Jesus, guy,” she protested, “A little warning?”

“Sorry,” Arcade replied, not looking up, “Nobody likes a warning for that. They expect it to hurt, and it hurts more. Just trust me on this one.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me twice,” Rory sighed, “I was a nurse in the army, y’know. I know all the tricks.”

“Awfully young, aren’t you?” Arcade raised an eyebrow as he continued cleaning her wound. 

“Eh, not really. They were taking folks as young as 20 for a while, there.”

“Mm, that’s right. ‘Specially from more remote areas.”

“You got it!” Rory sighed, “The ‘volunteer poverty army’, as it were.”

Arcade tried to hide his disgust with the concept. “Yeah, well, you know. I guess everyone’s gotta make a living. Oh, and you need stitches,” he added, readying some sutures.

“Not that it’s gonna matter,” Rory folded her hands over her stomach as she gazed at the ceiling, settling into the discomfort of the procedure.

“Hm? How do you figure?” He began stitching her wound.

“You  _ know _ those bombs are gonna drop soon.”

“Oh, no,” Arcade chuckled, “No. It’s all talk. Grandstanding.”

“I bet they thought the same thing in Hiroshima,” Rory replied dryly.

“Ouch. Well, I don’t know. At this point, the world is armed to the teeth with nukes. It’d be the end of it all.” He blotted at her wound with some surgical cotton, absorbing her blood as it turned a sickly, dry brown immediately upon contact.

Rory did not respond, but sang quietly under her breath as she tuned out the pain of the stitches.

“ _ Why does the sun go on shining? _

_ Why does the sea rush to shore?” _

Arcade whistled along to the old tune as Rory continued,

_ “Don’t they know it’s the end of the world? _

_ Cause you don’t love me anymore?” _

“Never did like Skeeter Davis,” she abruptly added at the end of the verse.

Arcade wrinkled his nose. “Me, neither. Too nasally or something. You’ve got a really nice voice, though!” he added sincerely.

“Oh, thanks!” Rory said brightly, but immediately grew visibly cautious. “But, uh. I’m not interested.”

Perhaps it was the lack of caffeine, nicotine, and sleep, but Arcade was very nearly annoyed by the presumption. “Uh...me neither?” he raised an eyebrow as he wrapped up her leg.

“Sorry,” Rory made a face, “Sorry. I’m just...kind of extra cautious around men. Especially when my ass is hanging out of a hospital gown!” She chuckled lightly to break the tension. After an awkward silence, she added pointedly, “I’m just...uh... _ never _ interested. You know?”

Arcade hesitated for a moment; then, nodded. “You a friend of Dorothy’s?” he asked her, in order to confirm his suspicions.

Rory sighed with relief. “Yep. Good friend. You?”

“Same here. We go way back.” He rose from his kneeling spot beside her leg and scribbled something on a notepad. “Well, Rory Wood,” he began, “It’s been a pleasure. Can you walk okay with the bandage? Give it a try.”

“Can I have my pants back first?” Rory rolled her eyes. “Dorothy or no Dorothy, it’s  _ indecent _ , you know, this thing,” she gestured at the thin gown.

Arcade laughed. “Of course. I’ll step out, alright?”

He left the room and turned his back to the door. Annie saw him emerge from her spot at the desk at the end of the hallway and skipped over to meet him. 

“Here you go, Dr. Gannon,” she said brightly, “Here’s your keys...black coffee...pack of Salems... and...well, I wasn’t sure what fruit you’d like, so I got a few.” She opened the grocery bag to reveal an apple, a banana, and an orange. 

Arcade took the orange and waved her off with the rest. “You and Nora can fight over the apple and the banana,” he said dryly. “Thank you, Annie.” 

He lit a Salem as he waited for his patient to emerge fully dressed from the exam room, and gazed down the hall out a distant window as he took a drag. The desert sun was bright and shining against a brilliant blue sky, and the distant mountain ranges glowed in the high-noon gold.

Such gorgeous weather only served to confuse Arcade, however, as a blinding white flash suddenly completely filled the window frame, rendering all in the distance invisible. Shortly after the flash came a deep, distant  _ boom _ . Though it sounded far away, Arcade could feel the walls and window frames tremble and vibrate in its wake. Finally, the whole hospital’s power blew--not with the rolling, warning gentleness of a brownout caused by too much electricity use, but with the suddenness of every fuse in the building exploding at once.

He froze in place, cigarette still pressed to his lips. After a few moments, he called out,

“Annie? Did we--um--did you see a thunderstorm rolling in on your way back from the gas station?”


	2. Chapter 2

Before Annie could answer, Rory threw the door open behind Arcade, causing him to lose his balance and swear. 

“What the _fuck_ ?” she cried, ignoring him, “I _know_ I’m not the only one who felt that!”

Arcade coughed and tried to maintain his professional composure. “I see you’re walking okay,” he nodded towards her bandaged leg. “Anyway, there’s nothing to worry about. Just a storm, is all.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’m not stupid. That was _not_ a thunderstorm.”

“I think she’s right, Dr. Gannon,” Annie said quietly. She’d appeared before them looking pale and stunned, having vacated her spot at the front desk. “There was nothing blowing in on my way back. Clear blue sky. I even told Nora when I came in how nice it was! But that flash...”

Nobody spoke for a few moments. A dreadful silence permeated the air: there was no soft _beep_ ing from any of the medical equipment, no hum from the computer terminals, and--most unsettlingly-- _nothing_ from outside.

The hospital was remote enough that it did not get much traffic from any nearby cities, but the normal soundscape included chirping birds, distant cars driving by, or radio broadcasts from nearby porches as residents hung out their washing or smoked their pipes. Not one of those sounds pierced the suffocating quiet--in fact, all Arcade could hear was his heart pounding in his ears.

After a few moments’ thought, though, he relaxed slightly and breathed a sigh of relief. “I know what happened,” he told the women with an insincere laugh, and clapped his hands. “A transformer blew, that’s all. Happens every so often when the heat is really up.”

Rory and Annie looked at each other, eyebrows raised. “Dr. Gannon…” Annie began, clearing her throat.

“It’s _nothing_ , Annie,” Arcade cut her off sharply. “It’s _fine_ . The power company will be along soon enough to take care of it. Now, will you _please_ help me find the generator before we all die from heatstroke?” He started down the hallway towards the back doors and gestured for Annie to follow him. 

“Uh--” Rory began, limping as fast as she could after the other two down the hallway, “Hang--hang on a minute. Not to be a downer or anything, but what’s--what does that generator run on?”

Annie thought about it for a moment. “Gasoline,” she nodded as she remembered, “I’m--I’m _pretty_ sure, anyway.”

Though the open desert was an ideal location for solar power, a combination of international governments’ push for universal nuclear power worldwide and the hospital’s remote location meant that nobody had ever quite gotten around to installing solar panels. Its generator ran on fossil fuels--a fact which was, in easier times, a subject of much lighthearted derision among staff members, due to its outdated nature.

“Uh-huh,” Rory replied. “And, uh, I take it you’ve got the gas to run it?”

“Well, of course!” Arcade snapped. “We’ve--um,” he faltered, after a moment’s thought. “Annie? Do we?”

Annie hesitated. “I--I’m pretty sure we have the gas--I just--I don’t know if it’s any _good_ anymore,” she wondered, struggling to think back on the last time the aging machine had been used. “It’s been so hot--but--but I’ll go check, okay?”

Rory stared out the window. “I...wouldn’t, actually.”

Outside, black clouds gathered, and a gentle rain started to fall over the desert. Normally, this would bring relief to months of drought, and be a cause for celebration--but Rory’s heart sank as she realized every single raindrop was black, staining the soil beneath it as it fell.

She’d feared the worst, as she was certain Annie had as well: at long last, after months--years--of grandstanding from world leaders, the bombs had finally fallen. 

Rory knew there must be more, but it was, perhaps, a blessing and a curse that they were so far away from the nearest large city. Though their remote location kept them out of any atom bomb’s likely blast zone, the fallout that came afterwards _traveled_. The radioactive particles--most often visible as ash--would find a way to reach every single corner of the earth, intensifying, spreading, and permeating into every single molecule of what little life might remain as more and more cities worldwide were flattened.

For the toxic ash to have already made its way to their remote patch of desert, masquerading as the quenching rain they so desperately needed, was worrying: it either meant that many more bombs had fallen already, or that the one they saw was closer than they realized.

 _At least_ , Rory corrected her train of thought, _closer than_ some _of us realized…_

“ _There’s_ the rain,” Arcade laughed. “See? I _told_ you there was a storm coming!” When neither Rory nor Annie responded, he pressed on, “Must have been one of those, oh, what are they called... _microbursts_ that come out of nowhere.”

“Um...yeah,” Rory started cautiously, “Hey. I don’t think you’re understanding the--”

“--I think I know what _rain_ is,” he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Now, if I’m going to get you those antibiotics so you can get out of here, I have to get the power back on, and to get the power back on, I have to go out to the generator, and to go out to the _generator_ , yes, I will have to go out in the rain.”

“This isn’t a good i--”

But before Rory or Annie could stop him, Arcade pushed the back door open and stepped into the acrid, black rain. 

Rory ran for the door and stood at its threshold, desperately trying not to step foot outside or breathe in any of the toxic air. She pulled her shirt over her nose and mouth as she yelled, “ _GET BACK INSIDE!”_

“I’ve almost got the generator running!” Arcade called back cheerfully. “This gas is a little old, but it’ll--”

“IT’S NOT GOING TO WORK!”

“It’s just a little old, don’t worry! A couple of cranks will--”

 _“HOW ARE YOU NOT GETTING THIS?!”_ Rory bellowed, “It’s _not_ going to work, because none of the _electronics_ are going to work, because you are not _standing_ in a thunderstorm, you are _standing_ in _radioactive fallout_ from the _atomic bomb_ that caused an _EMP_ , AND IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR ASS BACK INSIDE RIGHT NOW, YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ALL THREE OF US!” 

She panted as the others stared at her in shock. 

With a weak groan, the generator hummed to life, choking out plumes of black smoke that became lost amid the soot-filled rain drops. 

“There,” Arcade said softly. “See? It’s working now.” He stepped back through the threshold and closed the door behind him, his white lab coat stained black from the toxic rain. “And I’m _just_ fine.” He did not acknowledge that none of the lights had returned in the building, nor did the computer terminals come back online. Everything was just as stone-silent as it had been moments before, save for the hum of the dilapidated old generator outside.

“I’m going to see if Nora will write up that script for you,” Arcade nodded to Rory. “Thanks for hanging out with us during the storm, but it’s probably best that you get going. I’ve got other patients today.”

When Arcade’s back was turned and he headed down the hallway, Rory turned to Annie and hissed, “Okay, so, is your boss crazy or what?”

“I don’t know,” Annie shook her head, “I don’t--I’ve never seen him like this. He’s usually so level-headed…”

“We were _just_ talking about the bombs, too,” Rory murmured, “Right before they fell...he thought it was all talk. That it’d never happen.”

“He’d said that a lot, actually,” Annie nodded, “He never seemed to believe it was possible...hey. Rory?” Her face suddenly grew anxious. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Rory raised an eyebrow, considering how to answer. “Uh. Psychologically? I have no idea. Physically…” she sighed, “Also no idea. We gotta...we gotta get that fallout off him somehow, before it absorbs too far into his body...hey. Is there--I bet there’s a decontamination shower in here somewhere, right?”

Annie thought about it for a second. “Yes--yep! There sure is. Bathroom on the other side of the front desk. What,” she laughed uneasily, “Are we just--just gonna throw him in there and lock the door?”

“You got a better idea?” Rory asked, already heading in the direction Arcade went. Annie jogged after her, her heels _click_ ing on the linoleum as they broke the deafening silence.

“Alright,” Rory cracked her knuckles as she rounded the corner to the front desk. “Here’s the deal, guy. You’re--”

“--I’m--um--I’m not--I’m not feeling very well,” Arcade murmured uneasily, his back to Rory as he sat in Annie’s chair with his head in his hands. His earlier jovial denial had melted from his voice, replaced by a nauseous quality that caused it to quiver.

“Yeah, I bet,” Rory dismissed, “Now, if we can just toss you in that decon shower real quick--oh...oh _God_.”

Arcade’s face was barely illuminated by the grey light of the window, but as he turned to face her, Rory could see blood trickling from his nose. He listlessly stared just past her, barely seeming to register her presence. His glasses slipped down his nose, slickened by sweat. 

Most disturbing, however, was how quickly his skin had begun to blister where it was exposed to the rain, the bright red blisters mixing with the black, radioactive soot.

“Hey,” Rory said cautiously, lifting his mottled hand from the desk where it rested, “Are you feeling any--”

But before she could finish her sentence, he slid from his seat to his knees, the office chair flying out behind him, and lost consciousness just as Annie rounded the corner and screamed.

“It’s okay, Annie,” Rory tried to reassure her, a note of panic rising in her voice. “We’ll--we’ll figure something out to help him--”

“I’m a little more worried about _that_ ,” Annie whispered as she pointed a quivering hand towards the window.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for vomit/emetophobia

Annie’s breath shuddered as she squinted through the black rain to make sense of what she saw. Between the smeared window glass, the clouds of whirling, radioactive dust, and the rain, it was impossible to tell for certain, though whatever it was filled her with dread.

“What  _ is _ it?!” Rory demanded as she held the unconscious doctor upright, trying to drag him towards the decontamination shower. Despite her best efforts, she lost her grip and Arcade slumped forward. Blood trickled from his mouth and pooled on the linoleum floor. 

“Actually--don’t worry about that right now,” she said quickly, “I need your help!”

Annie anxiously glanced between the window and Rory, bouncing on her heels as she struggled to decide which way to go. Before scurrying to Rory’s side, she dashed into a nearby storage closet and wheeled out an IV pole. She lifted it up and wedged it between the front door’s handles.

“That ought to buy us some time,” she nodded towards the makeshift barrier as she lifted Arcade’s legs.

“Help--actually, can you--can you sort of rotate him onto his left side with me before we try to lift him?” Rory commanded. “We don’t need him choking on blood.”

Annie did as she was told, but before they lifted him midair, she had an idea.

"Hang on!” she told Rory as she ran back into the room from which she’d acquired the IV pole. When she emerged, she wheeled out a gurney behind her.

“Great thinking,” Rory praised, “Okay.  _ One, two, three.. _ .”

The two women hoisted their fallen friend onto the gurney, and Annie steered it to the bathroom. Once Arcade was situated underneath the showerhead, Rory turned the tap--to no avail.

“Hey...” she said slowly, nodding towards Annie, “Is there a trick to this tap or something?”

Annie’s heart sank as she switched places with Rory. 

“ _ No…”  _ she whispered as she frantically twisted the knobs back and forth. “ _ NO!” _

“What’s wrong?!” Rory panicked.

“The.... _ taps _ aren’t working...the bomb...must have damaged…I…I don’t  _ know _ !” she cried, “I don’t  _ know!  _ It’s not  _ working!” _

“Ok, Annie,” Rory took a deep breath as she placed her hands on Annie’s shoulders. “Come on. You got this. Do you have  _ any _ decontamination training?” she asked her.

Annie shook her head. “I’m just--I’m a  _ receptionist _ , okay? I’m not--I’m not a doctor. I’m not even a  _ nurse!  _ I’m not supposed to be here, I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE! PLEASE! HELP!” 

By then, she was no longer talking to Rory, but screaming skywards to any deity that would listen. 

“ _ Annie _ ,” Rory raised her voice, but did not yell. “Listen to me. Okay? Please listen. There’s still some stuff we can do. Can you stay with me for a second?”

Annie nodded, panting to catch her breath. 

“Okay,” Rory said softly. “Let’s get this lab coat off him. Just getting that outermost layer of clothing off can help a  _ lot _ .”

Each woman took one of Arcade’s arms and slid his coat off of him. When it was off, they tossed it into a distant corner of the room. Proper protocol would have called for sealing it in a plastic bag, but since the women were short on time, Rory moved on to the next step. 

“Great,” she nodded. “Now. You seem to know where everything is around here. Do you have any wet wipes or anything like that? Baby wipes? Moist towelettes? Anything?”

“Y-yeah,” Annie quivered. “Yeah. I can go get some.”

“Hurry back,” Rory nodded as she shooed her out the door. 

With the doctor laid on his left side, Rory removed his shoes, button-down shirt, and trousers, leaving him in a thin, grey undershirt and boxers. 

_ Sorry, guy,  _ she thought grimly,  _ I know this isn’t exactly ideal for  _ either _ of us…hope you have a change of clothes somewhere around here, cause you’re gonna be here a while... _

As she cast his contaminated clothes into the pile, Arcade groaned weakly from where he lay. His abdomen contracted violently as he retched and coughed, spattering bright red vomit onto the white tile floor. 

“ _ Annie _ ,” Rory called urgently, trying to soothe him as best she could, “Not trying to  _ rush _ you or anything, but--”

“ _ Water _ ,” Arcade choked, continuing to dry heave.

Rory’s heart sank. She knew from her training that patients in a certain state of advanced radiation poisoning would die if they drank even a drop--but all of them  _ always _ cried out for water.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, teary-eyed. “Not yet...soon, okay?  _ Annie!  _ Where are--”

_ BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. _

From the lobby came the horrific sound of someone--or something--pounding at the front door, trying desperately to break down Annie’s makeshift barrier.

“ _ Water. Please,”  _ Arcade begged.

“ _ ANNIE!”  _ Rory bellowed, her heart pounding in her ears as she realized Annie had been gone quite a long time.

_ BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. _

_ “I need water…” _

_ “WHERE ARE YOU?” _

_ BANG. BANG. BANG… _

An almighty  _ CRASH _ echoed through the empty lobby as the metal barricade clattered to the ground. The hospital’s wood doors smashed open, flying into the walls and knocking over a heavy magazine stand in their wake.

No sooner had Rory reached the apex of her panic than Annie sprinted through the bathroom door and slammed it shut behind her, clutching a tub of moist towelettes in her arms.

“What the  _ fuck _ is out there?!” Rory cried, snatching the wet wipes from Annie’s hands and rubbing them over Arcade’s face and hair, casting each one into the pile of contaminated material as she went. “Get his hands and arms,” she nodded towards Annie, who promptly obliged, her own hands trembling as though they’d been shocked with electricity.

Annie’s face was snow white as she whispered, “I--I don’t know...but it didn’t have a  _ face _ …”

“What?!” Rory snapped, “What are you talking about?”

“It--it was just  _ burnt _ ...I couldn’t see a face...no eyes...no mouth…like some kind of  _ monster... _ ”

“Oh,” Rory said sadly, heaving a sigh as she leaned against the cold tile wall. “Annie. That’s--that’s not a monster.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “No. Open the door, okay? It’s--he’s--not going to hurt us.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Wait--wait,” Arcade choked, grabbing Annie’s ankle as she passed him by on her way to the bathroom door. He was conscious, awakened by the women’s efforts to scrub the fallout from his skin, but still very weak and nauseous. “Don’t--don’t open the door yet.”

“You’re awake!” Annie cried, immediately lowering herself next to him, “Are you okay?!”

“Get  _ away _ ,” he hissed, weakly waving her back. When Annie looked heartbroken, he added, “Sorry. Not...trying to be rude...contagious.”

“Contagious?”

Arcade nodded. “Neutron radiation...spreads. That’s--that’s why we can’t...can’t open the door…”

“The person out there,” Rory backed him up. “It’s--it’s gotta be someone from the blast zone, right? You said he had no face…”

When Annie nodded, Rory continued, ”How he got all the way out here...I don’t know. But he’s even more radioactive than our friend over here, especially--especially with the neutron radiation...the kind that spreads.” She cleared her throat and turned to Arcade. “Which brings me to my next point. Iodine? Prussian Blue? Anything? Any of that somewhere in this building?”

Arcade coughed, spattering his hand with more blood, but held up a finger, clearly trying to say something. “Rad--Radaway,” he choked. “ _ God _ . I need  _ water… _ ”

“Bad news,” Rory told him, “Even if it was  _ safe _ to give you water right now, the taps aren’t working. But hang on--Radaway? What’s that?”

Arcade heaved a shaky sigh. Rory, fearing he might be sick again, slid a small trash can to him across the tile floor, but he shook his head and took a moment to compose himself instead. 

“My...office,” he strained, “Something the...the Feds sent us to test...if needed. Shoved it in a desk drawer...didn’t--didn’t think I’d ever need it.” After another brief coughing fit, he added, “Joke’s on me...I guess.”

“But the only way to get to it is…”

Arcade nodded. “Yep. Got to...pass through the lobby.”

After a painful silence while they figured out what to do next, he turned to Rory with tears in his eyes.

“I’m...sorry, Rory,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “You’re--probably glowing inside by now.” He stared at the ceiling and swallowed, fighting back another wave of nausea. “I’m sorry. My fault. I...I just couldn’t...accept it. I’m...so sorry.”

“Hey, don’t...don’t worry about it,” Rory sighed, beckoning for Annie to sit with her on the other side of the room. “I get it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I know what it’s like to...lose touch like that. It’s okay.”

Feeling too weak to talk much more, Arcade reached for his pocket, but remembered his clothes were across the room.

“Jacket. Please,” he choked, pointing to the corner. 

Rory rummaged around in the pocket and held up a notebook, raising her eyebrows. Arcade nodded and made a writing motion in the air with his hand, and after a moment, Rory found a pen. She slid them both across the floor and reached for a wet wipe, scrubbing the residual fallout from her fingers.

“Problem,” Arcade wrote, his writing shaky, and showed Rory. 

“What is it?” Rory asked.

Arcade scribbled a radiation symbol on the page.

“Y...yeah?” Rory nodded slowly, fearing his brain was starting to go. “That’s...that’s a problem, alright.”

Arcade glared at her, but after a moment, added, “Survivor is too radioactive.”

“I’ll just run past him,” Rory said, “If we can get you well, then--”

Arcade shook his head vigorously, growing annoyed.

“NO,” he scrawled.

“Why not?” Annie asked him.

After a long pause, Arcade heaved a shuddering breath and wrote,

“She’ll die.”

Rory’s heart sank. “He’s right,” she said, “I’ve been handling him this whole time and absorbing whatever radiation he has...if I get too close to the Survivor, it’s...but wait!” she cried, interrupting herself, “Can’t--can’t I just immediately treat myself with the RadAway?”

Arcade shook his head and spoke aloud. “Not--not enough. Works...better on...gamma rad--radiation…”

“We aren’t just going to wait around for you to die!” Annie cried, immediately rising to her feet. 

“I’m sorry, Annie,” Arcade began, “I--”

“No, I mean, we  _ aren’t doing that, _ ” Annie’s voice rose in a way the others had never heard before. “Which drawer in your desk, Dr. Gannon?”

“No way,” Rory tried to intervene, “You’re not--”

“WHICH DRAWER IN YOUR  _ DESK _ , DR. GANNON?” Annie bellowed, her voice echoing against the bathroom tiles.

After a stunned silence, Arcade whispered, “B--bottom right.”

“Thank you,” she said calmly. With all eyes on her, she took a deep breath.

“I already passed by the survivor once,” she began, “He--he got in before I ran in here and closed the door. He...touched me, actually,” she stared at her shoes. “Already. My arm…my point is, it’s--if his--radiation is gonna kill me...it’s already killed me.”

“Is that right?” Rory turned towards Arcade, her heart sinking. She knew a lot about medically treating radiation poisoning, but little about the scientific workings of it.

Arcade paused, then, slowly, nodded. “More or less,” he croaked. “But Annie…”

“I’m...I’m gonna go, now,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “Before you can talk me out of it. Bottom right drawer? That’s what you said?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to protest further, but he could not quite find the words.

Annie slowly stepped across the bathroom and reached for the door handle. “Alright. Well...I’ll be back soon, then.”

“Wait--” Rory tried to stop her, her heart pounding in her chest--but Annie was already gone.

Rory slumped against the wall. “God,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands, “did we just kill her?”

“Dunno,” Arcade murmured back; then, shook his head. “No. Not--not us. The...the bombs.”

He reached for his notebook, already exhausted from the ordeal of speaking once more, and scribbled something on the page. He coughed to get Rory’s attention.

When Rory read what was on the paper, it simply said, 

“My mom…”

“Your mom?” Rory asked him, “Where is she...was she...I... I don’t know. That’s insensitive. I’m sorry.”

Arcade waved his hand dismissively, and scrawled a small Star of David on the page in response.

Rory squinted at it before realizing what he was trying to get across. “Oh, she’s--she’s Jewish! Wait! It’s Saturday. So she...she was at Temple.”

Arcade nodded sadly, tears filling his eyes.

“Well--hey. A lot of those--those bigger buildings, in the city and whatnot--lot of them have shelters. She...she could still be out there. Safe. You don’t know.”

“Safe?” he croaked hopefully.

“Yeah, man. I hope so.”

After a few moments, Arcade wrote something else. 

“What about you?” the notebook read.

“Me? Oh...family and stuff? Um…” Rory paused, considering how much she wanted to delve into it. “Just, ah...Louise.”

Arcade nodded patiently, waiting for her to continue. 

“We--we were prepared, you know? Read all the literature. Built the home shelter…watched all the PSAs...we were ready. We just, um…” her voice cracked, “We didn’t realize we...we might not be together when the bombs fell. Or at home. Sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”

“Maybe she’s okay,” Arcade tried to comfort her, his voice strained.

Rory shook her head. “Nah. She worked in the city...outside. She’s--I...anyway,” she finished, looking away, “I hope it was quick. That’s all.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, anxiously awaiting Annie’s return. All of a sudden, the doorknob turned, causing them both to snap to attention--but Annie did not enter.

“Annie?” Rory called, “Is--is the door locked?”

Receiving no answer, she rose to her feet to open it for her.

To say that Rory made eye contact with someone who was not her friend Annie upon opening the door would be incorrect: it would rely on the notion that the being who faced her had any eyes at all. Instead, she stared into charred, blackened skin where a pair of eyes should have been, and screamed at the top of her lungs


End file.
